ENT17 Advance Directive
by A Rhea King
Summary: Trip is accidentally exposed a fledgling clone which puts his life in danger. Archer demands it be removed, and learns that Trip has taken this decision out of Archer's hands without telling him. All he can do is wait and hope he doesn't lose his friend.
1. Chapter 1

ADVANCE DIRECTIVE

A. Rhea King

**CHAPTER 1**

Trip entered Sickbay, tapping a PADD against his free hand. He watched Phlox scurry about the room as he packed cases, pausing only to check information downloading to PADDs. He flashed a smile as he rushed by Trip.

"What can I do for you, Commander?"

Trip looked at the PADD in his hand. "Uhm... I finally got T'Pol and Malcolm pinned down long enough to sign this. I was just dropping it off." Trip held the PADD out as the Denobulan hurried back his direction.

Phlox snatched the PADD from Trip, disappearing in the back. He reappeared, PADD still in hand.

"I'll add it to your records. Do you want a copy sent to your parents?"

"Yeah."

Phlox sat the PADD down and resumed packing. "It has been my experience that most humans procrastinate on updating these things. I'm curious as to why you didn't?"

Trip slid his hands in his pockets, looking at the floor. "I just... In the Expanse... With what happened to Sim... I wasn't the only engineer and... And..." Trip swallowed the rest of his words.

Phlox stopped packing, studying Trip's face. Trip suddenly smiled.

"You about ready? The Plouph keep asking when you'll be down."

Phlox smiled. "Almost."

"You are gonna let me and Malcolm have a little shore leave, right?"

"I told Captain Archer I didn't need you to join me. All I'm doing is educating the Plouph on the policy and procedures of the physician exchange program."

"T'Pol mentioned the medical community is excited to have them join. What makes them so special?"

"Most physicians, even myself, have a percentage of fatalities on the operating table. They have less than one percent. They are the greatest physicians in this sector."

"You're right. There won't be much need for Malcolm or me, but we'd both appreciate if you didn't mention it again to the Cap'n. We wouldn't want him to change his mind, now would we?"

Phlox chuckled. "I'll keep quiet."

"Do you want me to take anything to the shuttle pod?"

"Those cases over there, if you don't mind. I'll be there in ten minutes."

Trip picked up the cases he motioned to and left. Phlox's smile waned. He looked at the PADD, reading the document on it.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

Trip watched tadpole looking creatures swim around the large tanks as he followed Phlox and Plough nurse Nadez. They were aliens that were short in height, but not width. They looked like they were folds of skin that had been poured into clothes and were overflowing the boundaries of the fabric. When they walked, they waddled like penguins, using their arms to balance their bulk. They had large, sagging jowls that lifted into ear-to-ear smiles, floppy ears and warm, kind, brown eyes, reminding Trip of Blood Hounds. There was no visual way to discern genders.

He turned to Malcolm. "Malcolm, why don't we--"

"Shh!" Malcolm said.

Trip grinned, looking away. Before Nadez had begun talking about these tadpoles, Malcolm was whining about being bored. But now Trip couldn't tear him away. Phlox stopped at a tank, watching the tadpoles.

"So your kind procreates with these clones?" Malcolm asked, motioning to the tank.

"That is correct," Nadez answered.

"And they burrow into the... The..."

Nadez smiled, waiting patiently. When it was clear Malcolm didn't remember the term, she quietly told him, "Parental host."

"Yes. They burrow at the base of the neck and attach to the host's brain? Amalgamation you called it?

Phlox and Trip exchanged a surprised look. It wasn't like Malcolm to remember so much about something that didn't blow up.

"Correct."

Malcolm looked at the tank. "Doesn't that hurt?"

"Yes. The parent is treated with pain medication."

"If you've perfected cloning, why go through all of that?"

"We've found that each time a Plough was cloned, the fledgling lost abilities or was not mentally sound. This process produces fledgling with no memories, and the amalgamation helps educate them."

Malcolm started to ask another question when an alarm went off. Nadez turned, looking at a wall. Phlox, Malcolm, and Trip looked too, but they didn't know to look for.

"This way," Nadez said. "Please hurry."

She led them through an open doorway. A thick metal door was slowly closing and Plouph waddled past them into the room. Inside the room handholds were bolted into the ceiling. Some of the Plouph held onto the handholds, but most squatted on the floor.

"Hold onto the handholds with both hands," she said, stepping back against the wall of the room and gripping a handhold with both hands.

The three obeyed, watching the door start to close.

"What's happening?" Trip asked Nadez.

"There's about to be a ground quake," Nadez answered.

"When?" Trip asked.

"In about five minutes."

"How do you know that?"

"Our warning system can detect a ground quake up to five minutes in advance. Unfortunately it doesn't detect aftershocks quite as well."

"Seismologists on earth would really like to take a look at that warning system," Trip said, crossing his arms across his chest. "Could I talk to someone about it? Get the specs?"

"I'll arrange it."

The room began shaking, making him grab a handhold. The quake ended, but several minutes passed before the door started opening. Nadez led them back into the tank room, stopping at a terminal. She tapped the controls and then turned to Trip.

"If you will go up those stairs," she pointed to a nearby staircase, "and follow the walkway around, there will be a security guard waiting for you. He will take you to meet with seismologists."

"Thanks. You coming, Malcolm?"

"I'll stay with Phlox."

Trip walked to the stairs and trotted up them to the walkway above. Plouph passed him, returning to their workstations along the walkway. It crossed over six tanks, four of which were full of amniotic fluid and Plouph fledglings. Trip looked at the tanks below him, slowing to a stop. Schools of fledgling swam in mesmerizing, synchronized patterns like schools of fish.

"Commander," Malcolm called.

Trip looked up. Malcolm walked up to side of the tank Trip stood over.

"Where shall I meet you for supper?" Malcolm asked.

Trip stepped up to the rail. "I thought you were interested in these tadpoles, Malcolm. Why the change of heart?"

"I was being courteous, unlike _you_." A smug smile settled on his lips.

Trip grinned. "Well, if you get bored again, she did ask Phlox if anyone on board would be willing to submit to a full body exam. Just think, a free enema."

Malcolm shook his head. "Just for that, I'm going on shore leave alone!"

Trip laughed, leaning forward on the walkway handrail. "And get in trouble--"

The railing broke from the support braces under Trip's full weight. He tried to pull back but he'd already lost his balance, sending him falling headfirst toward the tank. He saw the second bar fly past and managed to grab it with one hand. The bar groaned under his weight and sagged, dipping Trip's toes into the fluid.

The top bar crashed on top of the tanks with a loud clang, bounced and fell off the tanks. It knocked over terminals in the work area between the tanks, setting off a chain reaction of sparks and crashing.

The bar he held kept turning and he quickly realized it was unscrewing. He put a hand on both sides and the rolling stopped. He tried to pull himself up and the bar started rolling again, threatening to dump him in the tank.

Trip looked up when a pair of hands grabbed his wrist, finding a Plouph crouched on the walkway. Trip turned his hands, latching onto the folds of skin over the Plouph's wrists. The quake alarm went off again. The Plouph and Trip looked wide-eyed at each other.

"PULL!" Trip screamed.

The Plough pulled back, straining to drag Trip back onto the walkway. Trip tried to get a foot on the bracing bar that ran underneath the walkway, but the amniotic fluid from his shoes quickly slicked it. The lab began shaking and the Plouph lost his balance, falling back onto the walkway and losing his grip on Trip's wrists. Trip flailed wildly before plunging into the amniotic fluid.

For a few seconds all he could see were thousands of fledglings swimming in little schools and he couldn't tell which way was up or down. Then he spotted the walkway and swam toward it. Breaking the surface, he swam toward a ladder on the side of the tank. He reached a hand out for a rung.

A deep pain stabbed into Trip's neck making him shriek. He grabbed at the pain, sinking into the fluid. He was able to inhale half a breath before slipping under the surface. Pain coursed down his spine and stabbed needles into his skull. His lungs began to burn as the oxygen in them depleted. Something brushed his head and he opened his eyes. A human hand was reaching for him. Trip grabbed it, feeling it close around his wrist. The pain suddenly flared and he let go to grab at the spot. The hand pulled him above the surface as he inhaled a breath.

"Trip," he heard Malcolm say.

Trip couldn't remember how to speak.

"He's been hurt! I need some help!" he heard Malcolm call out.

Pain surged down his spine and deep into his bones. Burning white light blinded him and faded into a memory.

#

Trip lay on the floor, facing his best friend Julie Nolan. Her long black hair was spread around them, lying across Trip's arms like threads of silk. Only moments before she had been screaming and violent, but the emotional furry had fizzled. Now she lay exhausted and weak next to him. In the light of the bare bulb overhead, her Navajo heritage showed in her high cheekbones and smooth dark skin. She hugged a worn, patched teddy bear to her chest, staring blankly at Trip's chest.

The bare room they laid in was decorated in bright pastels. A border of puffy, happy alphabet characters smiled down at them from the top of the four walls. The only furniture was a toy box overflowing with stuffed toys.

Trip reached out, stroking back Julie's hair.

"Julie bean," Trip whispered, "you scared the neighbors. They called the police, but I told them we could work this out if they just gave us an hour. So talk to me, Jules. Please talk to me."

"Mike said he can't live with me anymore. I remind him too much of Brittany every time I smile or laugh. He couldn't stand it anymore. When I came home, this was all that was left. He _left_ me!" Julie looked into Trip's eyes. "When she died, he swore he wouldn't leave me, Trip. He _promised_ not to leave me."

Trip nodded. "I remember."

"How can everything go to hell in six months? I've lost my baby, my husband, I'm probably kicked out of Starfleet, and you're leaving. I've lost _everything_!"

Trip wanted to console her, but he couldn't. He couldn't promise to stay, because his dreams and orders put him on _Enterprise_ in two days. He smiled, tugging on the teddy bear's ear.

"You haven't lost everything. You still have Ted."

Julie smiled loving at the teddy bear. "Yeah. Ted's still here."

"Stay with my parents. Just until you've completed your psych evals and the review is over."

She looked into his eyes. "I don't want to go to Florida."

"Julie, it was just a dream. There's not gonna be a beam of light come down from the sky and kill everyone. That only happens in those old, bad, science fiction movies."

"Everything else that happened in my vision quest has happened."

Trip moved his head closer, stopping nose to nose with her. "And you saw you with two children: a boy and a girl. You were married to a man that has black hair, not brown. And you were an Admiral at Starfleet. If everything you saw in your vision quest is going to happen, then you have something to look forward to, Jules. Stay with my parents until this is past, because... I can't leave you here. The police won't let me, Jules. Please?"

Julie smiled, nodding. "Okay, Lucky. I'll go. But... I want to lay here for a while. I want to stay where Brittany was happy for a little while longer."

Trip took her hand in his. "Okay. Let's close our eyes and go to the park to play with the munchkin."

#

Archer and T'Pol ran through double doors, spotting Malcolm down the hall.

"What is his condition?" T'Pol demanded.

"Almost an hour ago I was told he was stable, but I don't know what that means. They aren't telling me anything and I haven't seen Phlox since he rushed off with the other Plouph."

"How bad was he hurt when they took him?"

"Very bad. He had no color and was screaming in pain. I thought it was from the fluid. Phlox said it wasn't, but--"

"It is not the fluid, Lieutenant," Phlox said.

The three turned, finding Phlox and Nadez standing in the hall. Nadez walked to a door down the hall and held it open. Phlox motioned to it. The five filed into an empty waiting room.

"Trip fell into a tank that had fledgling Plouph in it. You have to understand that fledglings have two basic instincts: find food and find a parental host. One mistook Commander Tucker as a parental host and has begun amalgamation."

"Dear God!" Malcolm muttered.

Archer glanced at him. He was sitting in a chair, his arms wrapped tight around his abdomen. Archer looked back at Phlox.

"What is an amalgamation?" Archer asked.

"A fledgling attaches to the brain and learns from their host's memories."

"Is this going to cause brain damage?"

"We don't believe so."

"You don't believe so!? Doctor--"

"The amalgamation is a painful process, but we are providing him with medication to alleviate that."

"No. It has to be removed."

"Captain, I assure you that we are keeping a very close eye on the process until we know for sure what is happening."

"If it comes down to his life and that fledgling, you will--"

"I will do as Trip has requested, Captain. Now, Commander Tucker has been moved to an amalgamation pod and he needs people he is close to. He's scared and confused. By now most Plouph aren't coherent but he does appears to be still. That could change at any moment. Who would like to accompany Nadez to the amalgamation pod?"

Archer looked down at Malcolm. He was in a state of shock. T'Pol stood at a window with her back to them.

"T'Pol, go with Nadez."

T'Pol obeyed. Archer turned back to Phlox.

"What did you mean you'll 'do as Trip has requested,' Phlox?"

"That isn't important at this time, Captain. There are several doctors working on this case and I have to go assist them. Nadez will come back later to see if you or Malcolm would like to visit him."

Phlox left the room. Archer wanted to say more, but it was clear that Phlox wasn't about to offer any more information. Archer sat down in a chair next to Malcolm, staring at the gardens outside.

#

Nadez led T'Pol through clear doors into a huge room filled with dome structures.

"Each dome is sound proof for the benefit of the other parents, and each has it's own climate controls to make the parents comfortable," Nadez told T'Pol.

The domes were constructed of a frosted material and medical technicians were constantly coming and going from them. T'Pol's hearing picked up dozens of Plouph talking and crying out names. Nadez stopped in front of a dome and turned to T'Pol.

"Are you prepared to help him through the amalgamation?"

T'Pol nodded once and they entered. One Plouph technician was monitoring readouts from various equipment, another was patting Trip's forehead with a wet washcloth. He had been placed in a comfortable looking reclining chair in the center of the dome with padded fabric restraints holding his arms and legs. They had changed him into white pajamas and attached devices on his temple and neck. T'Pol moved a chair next to Trip's and picked up his hand. He opened his eyes, staring at her face.

"They aren't responsible, are they?" Trip whispered.

"No. During the earthquake you fell into a fledgling tank and one mistook you for a Plouph host."

Trip whimpered, tightening his grip on her hand. T'Pol stroked his hair. He leaned his head against her hand, closing his eyes. He suddenly screamed, blinded by white-hot light.

Trip smiled, whispering, "I remember when you--"

#

Trip couldn't have been more relaxed. It was amazing how T'Pol could find every aching, knotted muscle and work them into relaxation with such little pressure.

"Between all this training and extra shifts in engineering, I've been looking forward to this _all day_," Trip told her.

"Sit up," T'Pol commanded.

She waited for him to rise and began working on the pressure points on his neck and shoulders. Trip expected her to comment, but she remained silent.

"You aren't sayin' much tonight."

She didn't reply.

"Don't tell me you're still upset about me and Amanda."

"I'm not upset."

"Sure sounds like it."

"You're mistaken."

Trip didn't believe that for a second. "Why would a few neuro pressure sessions between you and me be such a big deal?" he jabbed.

She sighed lightly and a finger pushed down a little too hard.

"Unless..." Trip began.

She held his gaze, her fingers freezing on his skin. It was a light touch, nothing abnormal about it, but tonight it made his stomach tense and sent a tingling into his groin. He chose to ignore the sensations, passing them off that she was applying pressure to a particularly sensitive nerve.

"Unless what?" she asked.

"Unless... You're... A little jealous."

"I don't experience jealousy."

"You're doing a pretty fair imitation of it."

"I am not, in any way, jealous of you and Corporal Cole."

"You... You're voice is tensing up. It's a dead give away."

"I didn't know you were an expert in vocal inflections."

"I don't need to be an expert to read you," Trip retorted.

He sighed, rolling his tongue over his bottom lip. It was a subconscious habit, but he noticed that T'Pol watched his tongue as it rolled. He realized he might have hit close to home, maybe even dead on.

"Come on. Admit it. You're a little jealous," Trip pressed.

"You're implying I'm attracted to you." She continued with the neuro pressure.

Trip shrugged. "That kinda goes along with the assumption."

"I think you're mistaken about _who's_ attracted to _whom_."

Trip smiled at the ridiculous implication. "Are you saying I'm attracted to _you_?"

"You already have."

"I-- I don't remember that conversation."

T'Pol thought for a moment.

'_This oughta be good. I've got her running like a fox!_' Trip smiled, waiting.

"It wasn't you, it was your clone, Sim, that told me."

"Sim?"

"He said you had feelings for me," she pointedly answered.

"He told you that?" Trip's face scrunched up at how ridiculous it was that she'd believe his clone.

"Standing right there." T'Pol glanced at the place Sim had stood and admitted the attraction to her.

Trip glanced at the spot. '_Why that conniving low life!_'

"What the hell was he doing in your room?"

"Your voice is tensing up," she told him with a hint of ridicule.

"Oh! Now you're the vocal expert?"

"I don't need to be an expert to read you," she quickly retaliated.

'_How could that jerk make a move on my-- Wait. Sim is me, so that means--_' Trip shook his head to stop the confusion.

"I don't believe this. I'm... I'm _jealous_ of... Of _myself_?"

"You're jealous?"

Was it his imagination or was that a hint of hope in her voice? "No! No. Absolutely not."

Trip mentally gaped when he saw a hint of hurt cross her face. Again butterflies fluttered across his abdomen and down into his groin. She'd touched a nerve all right, just not with her fingers. Yet.

"Okay... Maybe."

Hope returned.

"A little."

"Which would mean you're attracted to me."

Hearing his own words thrown back at him, Trip narrowed his eyes.

"It goes with the assumption," she coolly stated.

Trip did a mental double take. Hadn't this conversation started out with him _not_ being attracted to her? Why was it suddenly so hot in the room?

"What just happened here? Did we... Are we..."

T'Pol cut him off with a kiss full of passion and lust.

#

T'Pol woke when a hand squeezed her shoulder. She looked up at Archer, watching him crouch down beside her chair.

"Why don't you take a break? I can stay with him for a little bit."

T'Pol looked at Trip. "Did they find a safe combination of pain and anti-inflammatory?"

"No. They've only found a medication for the pain. But don't worry, if it gets too extreme, I won't let this thing kill him."

T'Pol closed her eyes. Archer laid his hand on her shoulder as reassurance. She quickly stood and left. Archer sat down in the chair and slouched back, watching Trip sleep restlessly.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

Over the top of his glasses Archer watched Trip expertly weave around people, guiding his skateboard with the precision of a figure skater toward him. Trip stopped next to Archer, flipping the skateboard up on end with one foot. He looked down the sidewalk and then checked his watch.

"Why do you keep doing that?" Archer demanded.

"Doin' what?"

"Looking down the sidewalk and then your watch. You've been doing that since we got here."

"Just... Lookin'. Your turn." Trip handed him the skateboard.

Archer stepped back. "With a bruised pride I fully admit I cannot skateboard and supper is on me. Happy?"

"No. You have to _prove_ it. Try again." Trip look down the sidewalk and then his watch.

Archer smiled. "You're up to something."

"You've proven me wrong before; I dare you to prove it now."

"Most people would be happy to have their senior officer tell them _once_ that they have a skill the senior officer can't master, let alone four times. And I don't know what you're up to, but I'm going to eat." Archer started back to his car.

Behind him Trip looked down the sidewalk again and suddenly grinned.

"NO!" Trip cried.

He grabbed Archer's arm and pulled him back onto the sidewalk. Trip pushed the skateboard into Archer's chest.

"Try once more. If you fall again, I'll let it go," Trip said.

"Promise?"

"Scout's honor."

"If you embarrass me, Trip, you're scrubbing floors with pipe cleaners."

"I won't. Hurry up and try again. I'm starving."

Archer arranged the skateboard on the sidewalk and stepped on. He hadn't even gotten his balance when Trip grabbed his arm. He wheeled Archer around and shoved. Unprepared for the motion, Archer struggled to keep his balance.

"WATCH OUT!" he heard a woman scream.

Archer looked up. He was headed straight for two women. Archer tried to maneuver around them but lost his balance and fell face first into the sand.

Archer lifted his head. '_I'm going to kill him. He is going to clean the floor with his_ tongue!'

"Are you okay?" someone asked.

Archer turned his head. His sunglasses were skewed, but looking over the top he found a pair of striking, bikini-clad, twins crouched next to him. And pieces suddenly fell into place.

"Are you okay, Commander?" Trip asked.

Archer turned his head. Trip was kneeling on his other side.

"He has an injury from a plasma conduit explosion," Trip lied to the twins. "Sometimes it acts up when he's skateboarding. Usually he's amazing!"

Archer looked away, smiling. '_He is shameless!_'

"I can't concentrate on surfing when I break up with a boyfriend," one of the twins said. "I understand, Commander... I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

Archer looked at the women.

Trip piped up. "It's Lieutenant-Commander Jonathan Archer. Starfleet."

Archer slowly got up, nursing the arm that he'd caught himself with in the fall.

"Starfleet? Wow. Never dated anyone from Starfleet before," she giggled.

Archer opened his mouth to reply.

Trip interrupted. "We were actually talking about grabbing some supper and a drink. Care to join us? Our treat."

Archer looked at him. Trip shot him a grin.

"You're not on duty, then?" one of the twins asked.

Archer answered before Trip did. "We're on leave."

The women smiled. One introduced them both. "I'm Laura. This is my sister Linda. We'd love to have supper with you."

The four shook hands.

"We can take--" Archer started.

"The trolley," Trip interrupted, adding, "His Corvette is in the repair shop. You know how temperamental converted combustion engines can be."

"Yeah," one of the twins answered. "My uncle has one. It's always giving him fits."

"Would you ladies mind giving us a moment?" Archer asked.

Trip shot him a worried look.

"Sure. We'll be at the trolley stop." The two walked away.

"We'll be right there," Trip added.

Archer stepped in front of Trip with a cool smile. "So I'm settling in for a quiet evening and _you_ show up. You manage to deceive me into accepting a bet that I can skateboard better than you, drag me down here, and we just _happen_ to run into two very beautiful twins." Archer crossed his arms. "So tell me, Trip, how long _have_ those two been walking down this sidewalk at this exact time of day?"

"Two months, at least.

Archer shook his head.

"But there's _two_! I can't date _two_ women!"

"I get Laura, Don Juan." Archer headed toward the trolley stop.

Trip grabbed the skateboard and followed, repeating. "Thank you, Jon. Thank you, Jon, Thank you, Jon."

#

"T'Pol."

Archer looked up. Trip's eyes were open but they appeared to be focused on something across the room. Archer leaned forward, laying his hand on Trip's arm. Trip turned his head, trying to focus his eyes on Archer.

"You look like hell, Jon," Trip joked.

Archer smiled. "Been a long two days, Trip."

Trip closed his eyes. "My head hurts.

"I could step on your foot. Then your head won't hurt."

A half-hearted grin drifted across Trip's lips.

"I'll see if Phlox has figured anything out when he surfaces again. He and Nadez have been in a meeting since--"

"_Fuck!_" Trip gripped the armrests and began crying and moaning.

The medical technician appeared beside the chair and pressed a hypospray against Trip's neck. Trip remained tense for several more minutes before slowly relaxing. He licked his lips and swallowed.

"Would you like some ice?" the technician asked.

Trip nodded.

The technician retrieved a glass of crushed ice that he handed to Archer.

"Give him a little at a time," the technician instructed Archer before going back to his work.

Archer picked out a piece and put it in Trip's mouth.

"I won't let this go on much longer. Phlox is taking it out if it's any threat to your life."

"He can't."

"He can and he will."

"No, Cap'n, he can't."

The door opened, distracting Archer from the argument. Doctor Phlox and Nadez entered, Phlox approaching Archer.

"Can you excuse us, Captain?" Phlox asked. He sounded and looked worried.

Archer sat the cup down as he stood and squeezed Trip's shoulder.

"I'll be back," Archer told him.

Trip barely nodded his head. Archer walked toward the door.

Archer missed a step when he heard Phlox quietly say, "Trip, it's time to discuss your advance directive.

Archer turned. Phlox had sat down next to Trip.

"I need T'Pol," Trip whispered.

"She's on her way."

Archer took a step back toward Trip. As if from the air, Nadez appeared before Archer. She took one step at a time toward Archer, forcing him to retreat.

"We need to talk to Commander Tucker, Captain Archer," Nadez said.

"But I--"

"You need to leave."

"No, I'm his--"

"I'm sorry, Captain Archer. You have to leave."

Nadez stepped back and the door of the dome closed in Archer's face. He stood for a few minutes, debating going back in. In the end he turned and left the room, passing T'Pol. She didn't even glance at Archer as they passed. It was then that he knew something had changed that no one had told him about.

#

Archer followed Malcolm and Nadez into a small conference room. A table took up most of the room and tall windows looked out onto the hospital grounds. T'Pol and Phlox sat at one end, both leaning on the table. Archer had never seen T'Pol look so tired or Phlox so distraught. Reed sat down next to T'Pol, the two looking at each other. From under her hands, she slid a PADD to Malcolm. He picked it up, reading it. Nadez and Archer sat across from the three.

"What's going on, Phlox?"

"I can't find an anti-inflammatory medication that is effective," Phlox told him, "and the swelling is continuing. I'm concerned that it may become critical before this is over and possibly put him in a coma or kill him."

"Then you need to remove the fledgling."

"I can't. Removing it now will kill it."

Malcolm looked at T'Pol, his eyes watering. Archer noticed, but was more focused on Phlox at the moment.

"Phlox, remove that damn thing!" Archer loudly ordered.

Angrily Phlox snapped back, "We are _not_ in the midst of tracking down the Xindi, Captain! You can't sacrifice the fledgling's life for his!"

"I'm his primary health care surrogate and I'm making the decision to have that fledgling removed!"

Malcolm sprung to his feet, the action itself silencing the room. "You _were_ his primary health care surrogate. Now I am and the fledgling stays."

With his fingertips, Malcolm slid the PADD to Archer. Archer picked up the PADD and began reading. It was hard to swallow by the time he was half way through, and hard to breath by the end. He slowly sat it down, staring blankly at the table.

"When did he change his will?" Archer quietly asked.

"Five days ago," Phlox answered, "before we left."

"Isn't there some way to overturn it if it was submitted that soon?" Archer looked at Phlox.

"As his primary health care surrogate," Malcolm hissed, "I refuse to go against his living will, and because we aren't in the midst of a war, sir, you have no authority to override this decision."

Archer turned an angry glare on him, opening his mouth to retort.

"Do you know _why_ he changed his will?" Malcolm asked. "Do you know _why_ he took that power out of your hands? Do you know _what_ prompted him to make sure that no sentient being would ever die to save his life again?"

Archer closed his mouth. He knew exactly what Malcolm was talking about. "Sim."

Malcolm's rage dissipated suddenly. Quietly he said, "He's never been all right with Sim dying in his place. Why haven't you ever noticed?"

"I had an entire planet to think about! I did what had to be done and I don't regret it!"

"I suppose it's good tat you don't regret it, sir, but Trip does and that's why he changed his will. If he dies, it's because you made a decision you don't regret." Malcolm tried to say more, but he suddenly choked up. He hurried out of the room.

Archer looked at the PADD in his hand. One phrase stuck out at him like a long, pointing, accusing finger: _The exemption being any treatment that could, or would, cause harm or death to another human being and/or a sentient alien species, race or civilization, including unborn species and fetuses._

His guilt ripped into him with cold, dull claws. In his need to make the immoral decision right in his mind, Archer had never stopped to wonder how Trip had felt about it.


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

Malcolm walked up to the chair, watching Trip. He had no color in his face and sweat ran in steady beads. He was unconscious, a blessing in Malcolm's opinion. Malcolm sat down in the chair next to Trip.

"Trip?" Malcolm said.

Trip didn't respond.

Malcolm leaned closer, laying a hand on Trip's arm. He looked down when the door opened, but it was only two technicians returning to check monitors. Malcolm looked back at Trip's face.

"If you can hear me... I'm a bit angry with you!" Malcolm dropped his hands to his lap, continuing. "You left me carrying the can and it's left everything falling to bits--" Malcolm looked back up, smiling. "Listen to me. I'm reverting to the old language because of all this. You always laugh when I do that, don't you? Well..." Malcolm laid his hand on Trip's arm again. "Really, I didn't want to carry this can, Trip. And now I've gone off and broke my promise to you. I told Captain Archer everything you asked me not to about how Sim's death made you feel. I'm sorry."

Malcolm closed his eyes, putting his face in his hands to hide his tears. Behind them he snapped, "Why do you have to be so dotty?" He waited until the tears had passed to look back up at Trip. "All this made me get into an argy-bargy with Captain Archer, you know. But..." Malcolm patted Trip's arm. "But I'll carry on with this undertaking, Trip. Row with the captain or no row. Understand?"

Trip didn't move. Malcolm smiled, looking away from him, and right into Archer's stare. He stood between the door and Malcolm and wore the strangest expression Malcolm had ever seen on his face. For several minutes the men stared at each other. Without a word Archer turned and left. Malcolm looked back at Trip, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. It wasn't the first time he'd put everything on the line for his best friend...

#

Shuttle Pod One drifted lifelessly through space. Behind her, the impulse engine was now in pieces, drifting slowly away. If someone had passed within hearing range, they would have heard indistinguishable clinks, clanks, pings, and argumentative groans from her cold metal. Had they passed twenty minutes earlier, they would have heard her two occupants in a yelling match. But now Trip and Malcolm were silent as they shivered and slowly froze to death.

With a voice rattled from his violent shaking, Trip asked quietly, "Why didn't you just stun me?"

"Don't start that again!" Malcolm snapped in a matching rattled voice.

"I can't feel anything and I can hardly stay awake. You should have stunned us both so we couldn't feel it coming."

"Optimism, Commander. Remember?"

Trip wasn't feeling very optimistic right now. He changed the subject.

"Have you always been this big mouthed and stubborn?"

"I was relatively reserved and obedient until I was fifteen."

A strong shiver ran down Trip's spine. He pulled his blanket tighter around him. It didn't help.

"What happened when you were fifteen?"

"My father sent me off to military school to prepare me for the Royal Navy. When all other attempts to persuade him I had no intention of ever joining the Royal Navy had failed, I resorted to extreme measures. After that, I was rather outspoken."

"Extreme how?"

Malcolm looked down at the phase pistol. He picked it up, fiddling with the power control on it.

"I snuck off one afternoon, bought a dirt bike, and rode it onto the obstacle course. I was permanently expelled from school and no other school would take me."

Trip thought for a moment. He tried hard to envision Malcolm on a dirt bike on military-type obstacle course. A smile began to grow. He saw young Malcolm whooping and hollering in the afternoon sun as he tore around the course. A soft chuckle came when he saw the instructors, all proper military personnel, chasing after him. Trip started laughing when he saw Malcolm's father chasing with them, red in the face, furious that his only son would do something like this.

"What is it?" Malcolm asked.

"Your dad must have been furious!"

Malcolm nodded, smiling. "Livid. Tried to sell off my bike, but I got it away and took up motocross racing."

"Really?" Trip was shocked. "You raced dirt bikes?"

"Yes."

"Were you any good?"

"Yes."

"How good?"

"World champion three years running."

Trip was stunned. He looked across the shuttle pod, contemplating this new information.

"You were a world champ dirt bike racer?"

"Yes."

"Why'd you stop?"

"I joined Starfleet when I was nineteen and had obligations."

Trip would have shrugged, but he was too cold to move. "That's a stupid reason. Makes you sound all grown up."

Malcolm didn't reply. Trip heard the phase pistol whine, but didn't look. Malcolm was keeping his mind busy by tinkering, which was better than thinking about the inevitable.

Trip wagged his head side to side. "Somehow, I can see you as a dirt bike champ." Trip closed his eyes as a shiver coursed through him. "He can't skateboard to save his life," Trip told Malcolm.

"Who is that?"

"You said you thought Captain Archer could do anything. He can't skateboard. It's the one thing I can do better than him."

Malcolm chuckled a little. "That might be useful blackmail one day. Commander, I don't believe that our end will be very comfortable, so forgive me."

"For what?" Trip looked at him, and found the phase pistol aimed at him. "MAL--"

Malcolm stunned him before he finished.

Trip slumped over. Malcolm sat the pistol down and pulled his blanket off. He tucked it around Trip and then picked the pistol up again. He aimed at his chest, drew a breath and fired.


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

The waiting room needed a clock or a dripping sink or anything to break the silence. Archer looked up, watching an adult and child Plouph waddle past the large windows of the room. T'Pol sat in a chair next to the windows, staring out at the gardens. Malcolm sat on the opposite side of the room, withdrawn into his worry. Archer looked at the floor, rubbing his thumb against the inside of his palm.

His mind went back to the conversation about the will and the surprise of finding out what Sim's death meant to Trip. The memory was sadistically reoccurring, chasing away sleep, appetite, and peace. Archer's eyes drifted back outside as he came to a decision. The fledgling's migration could take another two hours, so now was as good a time as any to address Sim's death with Malcolm and T'Pol.

"Tell me how Trip feels about Sim's death."

As if she were expecting the question, T'Pol quickly answered, "He regrets that a sentient being died in his place and swore to never let it happen again."

Archer looked at his hand. "He must hate me. He sure puts on a good face to cover it."

"Trip could never hate you, sir," Malcolm told Archer.

Archer looked over his shoulder. Malcolm sat on the other side of the room, staring at the wall.

"Is that what he told you?"

Malcolm looked at him. "Yes, but it's more than that, sir. You're one of four people he trusts completely, just like me. I don't think he could ever hate you."

Archer looked down. "I always thought _you_ two were best friends."

Outside rain began to patter quietly against the windows.

"A person can have more than one best friend," Malcolm smiled. "And given who we're talking about, that should come as no surprise." He got up, walking over to the windows to stare up at the cloudy sky.

"I just wish that he would have allowed them to remove the fledgling."

"Do you?" T'Pol asked, turning in her chair to look at Archer.

Archer looked at her. "Rather than risk his life? Yes."

"But that would have killed it, and perhaps even Trip."

"The Plough are concerned the fledgling may exhibit mental disorders due to the fact that it learned from a human. That alone is enough reason for me to wish this had ended differently."

"They feel it will be confused, but they are prepared to help it understand as it grows. And is ending it's life because it may be mentally challenged a reason to kill it?"

"Learning from Trip may confuse it, but think of the sense of humor it'll have," Malcolm chuckled.

Archer looked back at him. "How can you joke?"

Malcolm smiled. "Because he would joke if he were here now. Besides, how many other men do you know that have gotten pregnant _twice_ in a life time?"

Archer smiled, even laughed a little.

The room door opened and Doctor Phlox walked in. He fell into a chair next to Archer. He was still wearing a surgery uniform and had never looked so exhausted. Phlox laid his head against the wall

"How are Trip and the fledgling?" T'Pol asked.

Phlox smiled, looking at her. "It's a male fledgling and is healthy and in a growing tub. In forty-eight hours the fledgling will be placed with the family unit Nadez chose for him. As for Commander Tucker, he's still critical but I'm fairly certain he'll make a full recovery. He was conscious for a few minutes, long enough to hear how the fledgling was, and that seemed to please him. Captain, I strongly discourage moving him until he's out of critical condition."

"Do whatever you need to keep him safe," Archer replied.

Phlox stood. "Nadez will let you three know what room he's in once he's stabilized, but that could be another six hours. In the interim, I'm going to go get cleaned up and some sleep." Phlox walked away at a slow, stiff pace.

T'Pol stood. "I am going to get something to eat. Would you like me to bring you anything?"

"No. Thank you."

T'Pol left.

Archer rubbed his tired eyes with the heels of his hands. He heard Malcolm sit down across to him and dropped his hands.

"When we were stranded in Shuttle Pod One, Trip and I talked about you," Malcolm told him.

Archer smiled. "All the bad stuff is a lie."

Malcolm grinned. "He told me that you can't skateboard. How does he know that?"

"Oh wow!" Archer laughed, letting his hall fall back. "Linda and Laura."

Archer stretched his arms across the back of the chairs, crossed a leg over the other and retold his version of the story.


End file.
